


Courting

by ElanVitar



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElanVitar/pseuds/ElanVitar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their own private dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to mylar-fic @ LJ on 27/04/07.

Their interaction is very much a dance.

Sylar is like that planning, plotting dancer who knows his steps in and out, whose path can nearly be described in mathematical formula, in constants. He derivates, of course, but even when he does, he's still planning five steps ahead, always trying to find a way to make the dance perfect and symmetric.

Mohinder, on the other hand, is that clumsy kid who would crush his date's toes maybe a dozen steps into the dance, who trips over his feet, forgets his steps and makes some up which don't fit the style of his partner.

Sylar is the one who has lube in his back pocket, while Mohinder aims a knife at him, missing even without telekinetic deflection from Sylar's side.

It's one of their rituals - Mohinder wants sex, but he cannot acknowledge it, so he attacks Sylar time and time again, just to be crushed in his half-hearted efforts in five seconds flat.

Mohinder bites his lips bloody, as an outward sign of resistance, but knowing very much, deep within, that Sylar loves their kisses flavoured with blood.

He will struggle, and curse, and bite, and spit, like a rabid dog on his way to be put down, while Sylar calmly removes his pants - sometimes with his hands, sometimes with his mind, and sometimes with just a knife -, and readies himself.

Mohinder always screams at the first penetration, no matter how long ago their last encounter was, and Sylar always grins down on him, showing just a little too many teeth. And always, without fail, halfway through Mohinder will stop struggling and inevitably get aroused. Sylar always takes this a sign to reach down and grab what Mohinder would very much like to ignore - for appearances, if not for truth - and soon Mohinder will be biting his lips for entirely different reasons, none of them connected to _vengeance_ and _protection_.

Afterwards, Sylar will leave, leaving Mohinder sweaty and exhausted - but not sated, never sated – at first, and guilt-ridden and angry soon later. He'll be obsessed for days, not sleeping and barely eating, trying to find a way, any way, to stop Sylar: from killing, from devouring, from coming back, from fucking him, from leaving him alone to shiver in the sudden cold.

But after a few days, a week at most, he will break down, sleep for a whole day, or two, or maybe three - and wake up to _desire_ , burning away every coherent thought he ever had. And he will masturbate until he's sore and his hands will feel perpetually cramped, pictures of maybe-dead-maybe-alive people flashing in front of his eyes and knowing he should be out there saving them, but he can't stop, can't quieten down, just _can't_...

And then Sylar will show up, and their dance will begin anew... maybe this time with a letter opener, or a nail file, or maybe just a fork.


End file.
